


A Victory, Nonetheless

by deliriouslyshipping



Series: T'Cherik Drabbles [19]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: It was a spurt of an idea, M/M, Sexual Content, be warned, short writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriouslyshipping/pseuds/deliriouslyshipping
Summary: Working on saying more with less words. I wrote this in about half an hour, so enjoy :)





	A Victory, Nonetheless

**Author's Note:**

> Working on saying more with less words. I wrote this in about half an hour, so enjoy :)

Harsh exhales of breath, restrained, fill the room. Warm fingers grazing scars on each others skin as they revere in each other. In all reality, this is wrong. So wrong - but that is what made it so much better. Two men never promised to each other, finding.. other solutions to dissolving their tensions between each other. The King isn't his to have, but he is right now. What Erik would give to let all of Wakanda see this right now. 

T'Challa digs his fingers in the low of his back, pressing himself impossibly closer, as he leaves invisible marks into their darkened skins. Fuck if Nakia or the council or anyone has to say, T'Challa is all his. 

"You really want me that bad, huh?" He fixes the classic smirk on his lips, darting his tongue out to catch the beads of sweat catching on his lover's skin. In response, he gets an eye roll followed by a breathy moan. Erik smooths his hand across the soft expanse of T'Challa's abs down to the meat of his thighs, squeezing hard enough to leave a lasting impression. Erik wants to felt everywhere, make the other man beg to have him in the sheets once more. 

Erik fixates himself on the grazing of his teeth against the juncture, golden canines sinking into the soft flesh as T'Challa labors against the present pain. In all realness, Erik really just wants to see what he likes. Undoubtedly, whether it be on his or the King's account, this will happen again; it's too good. They have barely touched each other and he can hear the air rushing past his ear from the open window. The aroma of sex clings around them. Fuck he loves this. 

He gingerly laps the bite, proud. 

"What would they think," Erik begins, lips pressing to the corner of T'Challa's open mouth, "if Nakia were to see you like this, so ready for my dick." The shame of it minimally brushes past his unkept thoughts. He doesn't give a shit about what anyone has to think of him, except T'Challa, who shuts his eyes in discomfort of the truth. Erik decides he is going to fuck him so good that he can't even remember her name. It pisses him off to even think that T'Challa will go back to her later in attempt to cleanse the shame of this exact moment in time. For now, he tries not to think about that. 

"Please, N'Jadaka," T'Challa pleads into the pillow, hips following for the filthy grind that Erik is providing. He has the King like this: all open and vulnerable. His for the taking. Nothing could be better. 

"Don't worry about it," Erik whispers, molding their lips for the second time that day. This was not like the first, angry and rushed, and he takes his time to lick everywhere that he can - T'Challa's so perfect (body, mouth, his taste, God it drove Erik crazy). Time was limitless in the comforts of soft sheets and soft skin. "I don't mind being a side nigga as long as I know this ass is mine." And maybe it is fine for now. Instances arise when his mouth almost gets them both in trouble, the unconscious instinct to be all over the panther when T'Challa was never meant to be his. 

It is what it is. 

T'Challa takes the opportunity while Erik is distracted to flip the two, straddling the dominant man intentionally. Above him, T'Challa has a small smile on his face. It was the kind when he was holding something back, a hidden objective. 

"Do not be foolish, you have never been something on the side." A protest lies on the tip of Erik's tongue, but the way the pampered cat says his name - the only person who can say his birth name without some ill injuries - has him thrown in a loop. Their encounters have been nothing short of natural. The first time was filled with anger and sparks of need, transforming into something more pure, passionate per say. Erik considers snapping back, hitting him with the fact that T'Challa has been in love with the damned woman far before he even arrived, but he doesn't want to ruin this. Not when it is this good. 

"I'll make you forget her name," Erik promises, receiving a look a confusion in return. When it registers, T'Challa kisses the middle of his pectorals, a vertical scar under the pressure of his lips. The feeling has never went away, the emptiness in his chest as he removed the blade, but it feels clouded by his heart pumping. T'Challa rises for a few seconds, keeping a steady gaze. He is so fucked, entranced in the beauty that is this man. This was never a part of the "take over Wakanda" kind of thing, but this feels like a victory nonetheless. He places a kiss in the centre of his abdomen, appreciative. T'Challa lowers himself and Erik groans at the heat that surrounds him. 

"The only name I want to remember is yours."

Erik doesn't even hear it. 

 


End file.
